Venom
by Schuyler Lola
Summary: She hates the weight of change, all of a sudden. Oneshot. Tag to 4.02, The Right Stuff.


**Disclaimer:** I don't own House.

Someday, I will start a chapter story in this fandom. Until I get there, I'm putting up one-shots. This is a tag to 4.02, "The Right Stuff," and it's very spoilery, for those who haven't seen it yet.

Feedback is appreciated.

Venom

Three weeks. Three weeks, since they had shown up again at Princeton-Plainsboro, and House hadn't noticed.

Cameron wonders why he failed to miss the fact that they had reappeared. How could he miss that? She knows House. She knows he's more interested in solving the puzzle than anything else. Two of his former employees end up in the hospital, and he doesn't notice?

She's curious as to why he never noticed. It's too…odd. Something's off.

_You're an idiot._

She smiles; she'd been expecting that. But, of course. His verbal abuse didn't make her cringe anymore; she feels like she knows it. She expects it. She can retort with it.

_My hair, the job, or both?_

She revels in the glory of her quick comments, of his surprise to see her here. She feels strange, though, having talked to him. It was out of connection with her new world.

She pulls the clip out of her hair, letting the straw-coloured stands fall in her face. She's still not sure if she likes it – but she needed to expel all the poison that had built up in her, and maybe this was the physical sign that she was going to change.

She has changed. She feels lighter. Working under House was painful. She loves – _loved_ – it. But she hated it, too.

She hated that feeling of never being good enough, never getting it right, always having to have a defence mechanism, always working, becoming the anti-Allison.

She missed being called by her first name. Sometimes. Other times, she realized that the use of her last name sounds more personal than it should.

Funnily enough, she still thinks of Chase by his surname. Maybe he misses it, too.

_I can do some good here. I need to get it out of my system._

"It." She knows that was pointed. She knows that House knows.

She could feel some of that bitterness creep up as she was talking to him.

But she needs to clear her mind. She may have climbed out of the narrow trench she saw the world from before, but she's not sure if it is House's world she's seeing, or her own.

"You owe me fifty bucks," Chase announces, making her jump. She swivels on the bench, holding a hand over her heart.

"Hey," she replies. "I know."

"Why, you talked to House?" he asks, reaching for his locker.

"Yeah," she replies, raking her golden hair back. "He came down to the ER."

"I saw him in surgery," he replies.

She blinks. "You mean while…" she trails off. Cuddy mentioned what House was doing to his patient. She shakes her head. "Did he yell at you?"

"He was doing a differential," Chase says.

_Right on._ She rolls her eyes. "He called me an idiot," she admits. "And a hooker."

"Like you never left."

"Yes."

Chase sits beside her on the bench. She wants to laugh; they both look like hell, scrubs and all. She reaches in her pocket and pulls out a fifty dollar bill, holding it between two fingers. "Here."

He quirks an eyebrow at her. Cameron had been insistent that he would notice. They had been hired at Princeton-Plainsboro again. How could he miss that? He takes the bill. "Thank you."

She gives him the ghost of a smile. "You're welcome."

"What's wrong?" Chase asks, quickly.

"It's weird," she murmurs. "He didn't notice that we're here. That's too weird."

"How is that weird, compared to everything else?" Chases demands. "He's got forty people up there, waiting for him to fire them. And that's just today."

"True." She tilts her head, absently rubbing her ring finger. She blushes as her hand hits the sleek metal band, marred by a diamond. "So, it's not as weird as it could be, but it's still weird? Is that what you're saying?" Chase groans. "Gee, that's not at all confusing."

"You make little sense, Allison," he states.

"Why, thank you." She's moody, and she knows it, bouncing all over the place. She's been agonizing for hours. Puzzling over the problem.

How is it that she can pick up something like that, after only three years?

Chase flicks a stand of her hair that's fallen in her face, and smoothes it back. "Relax."

"You always say that," she complains.

"And you always whine about it," he replies.

She does, and every time, they repeat the same lines. She likes their little bit.

Reaching for her clothes, she slips into a stall, still talking to him. "And you always chastise me," she calls.

"And you always point everything out," he says, playing along.

"We're in a rut," she says, pulling on her shirt. Scrubs make her feel slightly sticky. She hates the feeling. But she deals with it, because she has to. Because she sacrifices her vanity for her job.

She sacrificed her job for her happiness. She wonders where that fits in.

"I guess so," he calls back. "Are you ready?"

"Are we going out?" she asks.

"If you want to."

"Sounds great."

Chase waits for her patiently, like he does every day, like he has been for the past three weeks.

Their routines make her happy.

A familiar form is leaning on the balcony. A cane in hand, head bent to watch everyone in the lobby. The flicker of recognition flashes across her eyes; Chase sees him, too. His face tightens. She keeps her eyes on House.

The pull of curiosity, to find out what he's doing, is strong.

He catches her look. She stares back. She's not backing down this time. Green into blue, she knows – even if she can't see the exact colour from here.

Chase brushes her hand, and she feels a swell of love for him, for where they are right now. That metaphysical "place". She likes it.

But looking back at House, she feels the venom trickle back in, resuming its old place. It settles in, and starts watching TV.

She sees the old Cameron in the glass of the door as they leave. She'd been glad to see that girl leave.

But coming home, to Princeton, may have brought her back.

"You're right," Chase mutters, with his own last glance at House. His voice lightly teases her cheek. "It is weird."

"Yeah," she echoes, her eyes still trained on House. "Yeah, it is."

The poison moves over for that eerie, displaced feeling she had almost left back with House.

She hates the weight of change, all of a sudden.


End file.
